Crystal Heat

6

As Shadith eased from the sled and used a sticktight to moor it to the side of Harmon’s ship, she caught flickers of light from the cargo transfer that was moving at frantic speed on the other side of the bulge. As she crossed to the ship, she’d seen Harmon’s ’bots handling much of the work, with the men from the insystem ship adding their muscle to the process, stowing the sealed bundles in their own hold with the care of men who knew they had little leeway with much of the stuff they were hauling.

She slid the probe over the latch of the maintenance lock, raised her brows as the reading remained null. No juice, through the latch. Burning paper, all right. Nothing drawing except what is absolutely necessary. Nice of you to make things easy for me, li’l Harmon.

Before she did anything to the latch, she pulled herself against the side of the ship and reached inside, searching for life fires.

Three men. One nearby, probably in the hold overseeing the ’bot loading. Stranger. The second was Harmon, faint, much farther away. On the Bridge. With the third. Another stranger, probably the paymaster waiting till the transfer was complete before handing over the cash. Hm. Don’t underestimate the little man, Shadow. He hasn’t survived this long by being stupid…

She focused her reach on Harmon so she could act the moment she felt him go tense, inserted the mutator key at the end of suit glove’s fifth finger into the slot and started the attack on the latch.

Five minutes later she was inside and climbing cautiously along the catwalk in the space between the walls, working toward the Bridge, using her reach to give her an estimate of how close she was getting. Twice she came on interior maintenance locks, but they were too far from her goal; she noted the locations and the areas they gave access to and kept moving. The third lock was on the Bridge level; she used her suit arm to wipe dust from the small bronze plate, read dichio komugan. Aux Corn. Good. Running on the cheap, he’s probably closed this one down. So, li’l key, do your tiny thing and get me in there clean.

She emerged from the lock into the secondary corn room, found the screens and sensor boards sheathed in a skin of crashwebbing and a layer of fine gray dust on every surface, dust that came floating up as her steps disturbed it. The wrist readouts on her gauntlets told her that the air in the room was stale, barely breathable, impregnated with slough from every surface in the place. She grimaced and moved to the door. Again there was no power through the latch. He was conserving to the point of absurdity. Or necessity. She was beginning to feel sorry for the man, though she loathed arms dealers. This was death by inches and the thought revolted her.

Harmon was still tense; this close she could read an overlay of forced cheerfulness that confused but didn’t worry her. She slid the door open and moved through as quickly as she could, clicking her tongue against her teeth at the in-gust of air as the pressure on two sides sought to equalize. Nothing she could do about that but hope Harmon was too busy with his conversation to notice the blink of a telltale.

She checked her own telltale. Air. Thin, but breathable. She unzipped the gauntlets, clipped them to her belt, removed the stunner from its pouch, and ran on her toes past a dark access that from the smell of stale food led to the galley, then past two closed cabin entries; she stopped just outside the door to the Bridge, dropped to her knees and crept close enough to look in.

Harmon sat with his chair turned slightly away from the controls, though he glanced at the readouts now and then. He was smiling at a burly man who stood beside the Co chair, a locked case at his feet. “… come up with the cash, I know where I can get some out-of-date cpe at a big discount.”

“Out of date?” The burly man’s hands closed into fists-briefly-until he forced them open. Anger and the effort he was making to hold it in grated in his voice.

“Oh, it’s still plenty potent. Tricky to handle, I’ll grant you that, but also going at one-tenth the price.” Harmon leaned forward, fixed his eyes on the other man’s face and spoke with an apparent candor, beneath which Shadith could hear his desperation, “Look, I live by my reputation. I sell you worthless, word goes out, nobody buys from me. You’ve got techs who know how to handle it, see what they say, they’ll tell you it’s a good deal. Scrape up the coin and give me a call.”

…” He broke off at a ting from his wristcom. “Blue leader here.”

“Stowed and sewed up. Let’s get.”

Shadith eased back, got to her feet, and ran back the way she’d come until she reached the galley accessway and plunged into the darkness, where she pressed herself against the wall and waited. She was a bit surprised that Harmon was leaving his Bridge; then it occurred to her that the man in the hold wasn’t crew but one of the locals and Harmon was operating the ship solo.

The two men were still talking deal as they marched along the corridor. She heard a soft hiss and smiled to herself. Face. That’s what that sound meant. He fed enough juice to run a lift tube. Keeping up the prosperous image in front of his customers.

She left the accessway, moved into the Bridge, and waited for him to come back.